


Life is a Battlefield

by orphan_account



Category: Star Ocean: Till the End of Time
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-14 12:56:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15389223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Fayt is getting tired of Albel's constant challenges to fight.





	Life is a Battlefield

Everyone else thought Fayt was crazy for bringing Albel along. He was a loose cannon. Completely untrustworthy. Fayt forgave and trusted too readily. That was one of the few things Albel could agree with Cliff on.

Fayt knew Albel wasn't going to stab him in his sleep, at the very least. He'd play at it, but he wouldn't do it for real. Albel wanted a fair fight with him – winning at anything else wouldn't satisfy his pride.

And damn, did Albel use every chance he got to try and start a fight. Fayt could not call it sparring – Albel fought with the intent to kill every single time.

The team was camping out near the Sanmite Republic when Albel challenged Fayt for about the thirtieth time after dinner.

“Were you never told that exercise after eating is bad?” Fayt sighed and picked up his sword and gestured to a field a good ways away from the main camp, ready to go for another bout.

“Shut up and fight me.”

“You're not gonna win.”

“You don't know that yet.”

Fayt won.

Albel lay panting on his back in the grass, a shallow cut on his chest and the beginnings of a mass of bruises across his face. Usually Fayt tried to end it quickly and painlessly, but he figured maybe if he hurt Albel a bit more this time he'd lay off for a few weeks. Not that he didn't like fighting; actually, fighting Albel was kind of fun... when Albel wasn't trying to kill him for real. The fact that Albel was full-on ready to kill Fayt at any time left Fayt with a feeling of half-resignation and half-sadness.

Fayt sat down on the grass next to Albel and waited for Albel to catch his breath.

“You went easy on me,” Albel panted.

“Well, yeah. I don't want to hurt you too badly.”

Albel slammed his clawed fist onto the grass, startling Fayt. “Don't give me that bullshit. Go full-out with me.”

“Albel.”

“What.”

“If I go full-out with you, you and everyone else within a ten kilometer range is gonna die.” Fayt's voice was flat.

“Hmph.” Albel was at a loss for a reply, so he just rolled over away from Fayt.

“Why don't you just give it up? Do you really want to kill me that badly?” Fayt's voice wasn't without a tinge of bitterness.

Albel didn't reply.

“You'd have a lot better chance trying to poison my coffee or something.”

“That would be cowardice.”

“Oh?” Fayt raised an eyebrow, though he knew Albel wasn't looking at him. “But whatever it takes to win a battle, right? What's pride in the name of victory? Sometimes cruelty and cowardice is what's necessary! Any means to an end!”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Sorry, did I injure your pride?”

Albel's sword was out of his sheath and at his throat in an instant; Fayt didn't even blink.

“So you want to fight me again, then.”

Albel sheathed his sword, but didn't reply. Fayt felt he'd pulled out enough sharp comments already, and also kept silent, looking up at the sky. It was getting dark, and somewhat chilly.

Albel broke the silence a few minutes of what could only be described as sulking. “I don't want to kill you,” he admitted in a very small, mumbled voice. “The world would be a hell of a lot more boring if you weren't in it.”

Fayt was rather touched by the comment, as backhanded as it was. “Could you stop trying to kill me once a week, then?”

“You can't win an unbalanced fight without the intent to kill.”

“You're not going to win anyway, so why not lay off the killing intent?” Fayt paused. He was opening himself to a whole world of ridicule here, but he figured that this was the time, if there were a time, to be honest. “We're allies. I think of you as a friend. I'll spar with you any time, but I don't like seeing your face when you try to kill me for real.”

The expected taunt never came. “But you can handle it, right? No matter how hard I try to kill you, I'll never succeed, so it's fine like that. I don't have to hold back with you.”

Fayt peered over at Albel, but he couldn't see the other man's face, or decipher precisely what Albel meant by that.

“I'd like it if you held back sometimes,” Fayt said wryly. “Held back a few death threats, a few sneers, a few insults, or a few moody fits.”

“Not a chance, maggot.”

“Thought so.”

Another silence washed over them, and again Albel was the one to break it.

“I'm not your friend.”

“You're not?”

“You may think I am, but you're sorely mistaken.”

“Howso?”

“Friends trust each other.”

“I trust you.”

“I don't trust you.”

“Why not?”

A silence. “I don't trust anyone.”

“Do you trust your king?”

“That's not a matter of trust.”

“Then what is it?”

“Disobeying the king puts you in jail.” And didn't Albel know about that. Intimately!

“So you serve out of fear.”

“I don't fear anything.”

Fayt burst out into laughter. “Right. Sure you don't.”

“I don't.”

“Everyone fears something.”

“I don't.”

“You fear defeat.”

Silence.

“Why are you afraid of defeat?”

“Nobody wants to lose.”

“But you'd rather die than lose.”

“That doesn't make sense, you fool. If you die, you lose.”

“...that's true.”

“Of course it is.”

“But you won't humiliate yourself to win.”

“No.”

“So it's about pride, then.”

“If you don't have pride you might as well be dead.”

“And losing robs you of pride.”

“Obviously.”

“So basically you're saying you want to beat me in a fight because you're jealous that my cock is bigger than yours.”

Albel rolled around to face Fayt. “What?”

“Metaphorically speaking.”

“That's a stupid metaphor.”

“But it's a classic. And it's true.”

“Think whatever you want.”

Another long silence flowed over them. The first few stars were starting to come out.

“There's things I envy about you, too,” Fayt pointed out.

“Like what.”

“You're honest, no matter what it costs you. You do what you want without restraint. You can adapt to any situation on instinct. You're really funny.”

“I am not.”

Fayt's laughter in response signaled his victory on that count. “You have your strong points, and I have mine, okay?”

“Oh, please, spare me the 'everyone has a part' speech they give to green recruits. Everybody knows that one soldier dying is routine; the commander dying is a disaster.”

“Not every part of life is a battle.”

“Yes, it is.”

“What about going to the bathroom.”

“A battle between your ass and the shit.”

Fayt laughed again, tears coming to his eyes. “Okay, I yield. I yield!”

“Hmph.”

“But.”

“But what.” Albel was facing straight up at the sky now. The bruises were really coming out on his face. They would be pretty ugly by morning.

“If you died, I would consider that a disaster.”

Albel paused. “I know. And you're a fool.”

“What were we arguing about again?”

“Exactly how much of an idiot you are. You insisted you were only mildly stupid; I argued for complete brainlessness. The score is now 9:1 in my favour.”

“You were keeping count?”

“No.”

The silence passed until it was completely dark and all the stars were out. It was a pretty clear night, and as cold as you could expect on a night like this, but Albel didn't show any indication of getting up and moving back to camp and warm blankets, and Fayt was comfortable where he was.

“Okay, you're right about everything in life being a battle,” Fayt said, finally.

“Of course I'm right.”

“And you've had me beaten for a long time.”

“How?”

Fayt leaned over and gave Albel a soft kiss on the lips, Albel shocked and frozen under him. Then Fayt got up and walked back to their camp, leaving Albel dazed behind him, wondering just exactly who it was who had won.


End file.
